And she went so swiftly that he could only follow her to the door. The large shape of the car swallowed her up; and the car twisted softly around the little drive and away to the London road. Minutes later he heard its Klaxon, just one sharp keen, like the harsh cry of a sea-bird. …

There was a motor car behind them now and it blasted into the truck noise and the dust with its klaxon again and again; then flashed on lights that showed the dust like a solid yellow cloud and surged past them in a whining rise of gears and a demanding, threatening, bludgeoning of klaxoning.

They could hear a lot more than they could see. But what they heard told them exactly nothing. There were the klaxons, which kept up their long, monotonous, insane growling protest all through the raid.

Suffering. It was like a great discordant symphony ringing out from the world; like a klaxoning of a million million cracked bells.

2015 December, A. Merc Rustad, “Tomorrow When We See the Sun”, in John Joseph Adams, editor, Lightspeed‎[1], number 67, archived from the original on 15 August 2017, section II; reprinted in John Joseph Adams, editor, Cosmic Powers: The Saga Anthology of Far-away Galaxies, New York, N.Y.: Saga Press, Simon & Schuster, 2017, →ISBN, pages 187–188:

Century stops before an eel-ship, coiled in jewel-skinned splendor. Its great eye-ports are open, and Century signals with a hand; the eel extends a proboscis lined with diamond mesh and graphene plates like a ramp. Century leads Mere into the eel's body. Alarms klaxon in Mere's head—its escape is known.